O hai. This is a pretty old TZH fan-fic that I had posted here quite a while ago until I noticed it mysteriously disappeared from this forum section...hmmm. Anyways, I've reposted it for your viewing pleasure.

Enjoy!

Chapter I- Not Like This

Trey surveyed the dusty old shack. It was made entirely out of rotting old wood. Every surface seemed to be blanketed in dust. It was dark, the only light coming from cracks in the ceiling and the boarded windows. There was a single door, bolted down heavily. He did not know how long he’d last in here. He drew his custom Glock 22, which had the words ‘Rest in Pieces’ engraved along its barrel. He popped out its magazine. It was full, but the only one he had.

And then it came. A series of loud thuds resonated from the door. Trey raised his weapon.

“Come on you sons of bitches!” he shouted hotly. “I’m waiting!”

Whatever was outside began to pound at the windows as well. Trey nervously aimed his gun at all the entrance points. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Adrenaline flooded his veins. One of the windows finally gave in. A festering hand punched a hole through the boards, allowing a beam of light to blast into the shack.

Trey took aim at the breached defence and squeezed the trigger of his Glock several times. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots rang out, tearing more holes into the boards. Whatever was behind it groaned mournfully but continued to pound its way in.

“God dammit!” Trey swore. “You don’t give up, do you?”

The front door slowly broke away. Whatever was on the opposite side of it seemed to have incredible strength. Before Trey knew it, the door was blown off its hinges and fell aside. Light flooded into the shack, blinding Trey momentarily. Standing at the doorway was the dark figure of what looked like a human. It suddenly charged at Trey, wailing in an unwholesome manner that sent chills down his spine. He aimed towards the charging creature and pulled the trigger several times. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! The creature groaned briefly before dropping to the floor..

More of the creatures seemed to be crowding around the doorway, eager to get inside. The intense light prevented Trey from taking proper aim. One of them dared to take a step into the shack and was rewarded with a bullet to the head. Another came in, then a second and a third. Each of them received the same fate. Trey was down to his final bullet and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off the coming horde. He knew what had to be done. He pointed the gun to his head.

“Not while I’m alive…” he whispered under his breath.

But suddenly, Trey caught sight of something strange standing in the doorway- a pair of glowing red eyes. Trey made eye contact with the creature. He could not break it. He felt transfixed to the spot.

“Pull the trigger dammit…” he whispered to himself.

He couldn’t. Something seemed to be hold back. He wanted to end this all without any pain but his finger froze around the trigger. The creature with the glowing red eyes stepped into the shack and staggered over to Trey, not breaking eye contact with him. Trey could not even blink. A hot tear broke away from his right eye and slipped down his cheek. The creature was within arms length. It grabbed him by the shoulders and edged its face closer and closer to Trey’s.

“No…please…not like this!”

The creature opened its jaws wide before sinking its teeth into the side of Trey’s neck in a gory spray.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Trey screamed and awoke with a start. He was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. He felt around his neck with his hands then looked at his surroundings. He was back in his room, back in Arc Island. He got out of his bed and trudged over to his bedroom window, which gave a full view of Arc Island. He gazed at the scenery, thinking about what just happened.

“I need to stop drinking….” he whispered to himself then sighed heavily.

Chapter II- Contraband

The fiery light of dawn slowly crept over the horizon. Trey had been sitting at his windowsill, admiring the view until morning. He wiped the sleep from his eyes then glanced at his clock hanging over his bed. It was 6:25 AM. He decided to get dressed, rummaging through the piles of clothing that littered his bedroom floor. His room wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury but it was manageable, especially since it was more peaceful compared to the congested infected barracks.Trey eventually found what he wanted- his Red Halo uniform and his armband made especially for the infected. He laid them over his unmade bed then strode over to a piece of equipment that rested on his cluttered study table. It was a radio, a highly advanced one, about the size of a backpack, capable of intercepting, sending and recording any radio messages within a thousand mile radius. It was plugged into a GPS system and was known as a GTPS- global transmitting and positioning system. His humble abode was actually a newly constructed communications shack for the island. He was permitted to live there and be a Red Halo officer despite being an infected and due to having previous military experience with radio operations.

He checked the GTPS for any recorded messages. A yellow light flashed on the controls- there were none. There never were. Trey then promptly took a shower and dressed into his uniform, but decided to leave his gasmask behind- he wouldn’t need it. He exited his room and out onto the grassy hill that surrounded his house, while holstering his custom Glock 22. He shut his door behind him then strolled over to the village. By then the sun hung shining over the horizon. Trey made his way across any open field of tall grass then up a winding dirt road lined with old wooden fences. A cool breeze picked up and blew across the fields. Just then Trey caught sight of two young boys fighting down the road. He ran over to them and saw that they were fighting over a shiny object. The older looking of the two shoved the younger one’s head into the dirt while triumphantly holding the object in the air.

Trey saw what it was. It was a gun. He quickly snatched it from the boy’s grasp then broke up the fight. The two boys sat panting heavily and glaring at each other.

“Where the hell did you get this?” Trey asked them gravely.

“He stole it off the Albatross!” the younger boy accused the older boy.

“No I didn’t! I found it in my dad’s room!” the older boy retorted.

“I don’t care who took it,” Trey cut in, scowling, “Just get out of here before I get pissed.”

The two boys got up and ran into the field of tall grass, only to resume fighting. Trey paid them no attention and continued his way to the village. He examined the weapon he had confiscated. It was a genuine Smith and Wesson 500 revolver. He popped the bullet chamber open, it was fully loaded. Kids these days, he thought, pocketing the firearm.

Trey finally reached the village gates. Two other Red Halo officers sat on stools opposite each other, playing cards on a battered old coffee table. One of them turned to face Trey.

“Oh, hey, Trey,” the officer greeted with a sleepy look, “I don’t think I need to tell you this, you know the precautions. Just don’t go about spreading what you have.”

“It’s never too early.” Bob said with a grin and continued with his game. “Go fish, mate,” he said to his opponent.

Trey continued his way into the village, which was already starting to grow loud and lively as it always was. The village was a melting pot of different cultures. It was filled with people from all walks of life and was filled some rather interesting folk.

“Good morning, officer.” A lady greeted Trey as she walked by him.

“Same to you.” he said.

Trey made a stop by an African vendor who had just opened up his shop. The shopkeeper turned to face him and a wide smile spread across his face.

“No worry, you want to buy something? Eh, see nah, I no get to prepare my fish. I beg, come back small time and you go enjoy well-well.”

“What? What the heck are you…uh…I want buy some roast plantain. Please.” Trey felt awkward trying to speak to the man, whose name was Solo Okeke, some poor sod who’d drifted all the way from Nigeria.

Solo collected a piece of plantain that was roasting on a grill nearby and handed it to Trey. He handed Solo some coins and went on his way, biting off a piece of the plantain.

The zombie hunters’ ship was due to arrive that day so he quickly made his way out of the village and towards the docks area. The SS Albatross had already docked and its cargo was already being unloaded. A mound of crates rested on the pier and Trey made his way towards it, finishing the last of his snack. A hulking, large man supervised the young sailors that carefully unloaded the precious cargo. Trey paced over to him and greeted him with a smile.

“Daren,” he said, “good to see you!”

The man was heavily built, with signs of old age etched into his face, a balding scalp and a short white beard and mustache. He grinned and chuckled heartily.

“Nice to see ya too, lad,” his voice was deep and gruff, “how’s the new job at the shack?”

“How did you manage to get these?” Trey asked, grabbing the Resident Evil copy.

“Ask those hunters, they’re the ones that found it. So what are ya buyin’?”

“I’ll take one of the magazines…and how much for the Resident Evil copy?”

“What’s your offer?”

Trey thought about this for a moment, and then pulled out the Smith and Wesson revolver from his pocket. He knew what he did wasn’t exactly right but he couldn’t let those items go to waste, especially the magazines which would be promptly burned.

“Is this enough?”

“More than enough!” Daren chuckled. “So which will it be, Naughty Grandmas or Playboy?”

Trey strolled down the island’s southern beach, gazing out at the sea and the island’s defence walls. The sun was slowly beginning to set as it sank lower and lower into the horizon. Trey glanced around at the beach. There were a few children playing by the water’s edge- nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder and he swiftly turned around to see who it was. It was Daren.

“Still up for pub?” Daren asked.

“Of course,” Trey assured him, “I still haven’t managed to outdrink you… The GTPS never receives anything, anyways. What are you going to do about your son?”

“Ah! The wee lad. One of the neighbors agreed to look after him. He’ll be fine. As long as he doesn’t kill her.”

“Still has quite the fire burning in him, huh?”

“Aye, he’ll make a fine addition to this island when he’s allowed to hold a gun. Anyways, I’ll be off now. Oh and it’s Corin’s 20th birthday today.”

“I’ll be sure to bring him something.”

With that, the two parted and Trey continued his patrolling the beach until it was dusk. He headed over to his new home on the island. Eventually, it grew dark and the few street lamps scattered across the island lit up. Trey pondered on what he would get for Corin, a member of Daren’s former zombie hunter team.

Trey reached his home, went in and washed his face. He then picked out a packet of cigarettes from under his bed and placed it in a small box along with some folded pages torn out of from his Playboy magazine. It was a small gift, but Trey knew Corin was a massive pervert and would greatly appreciated the pictures.

He then made his way to the infected barracks area and to the pub. The pub was lit by several oil lamps hanging from the ceilings and it was a quaint little place that smelled strongly of alcohol. A rather big crowd had assembled there and were gathered around the birthday boy, Corin, who was chugging down a bottle of beer that had only recently come off the Albatross. Alcohol was hard to come by and was rather expensive on the island until a few months before when Solo Okeke had shown people how to tap palm wine from palm trees, otherwise known as kaikai to him.

Trey found Daren. They both took seats, listening to the zombie hunter crews boasting about their adventures in the wastelands. The bartender, an elderly man with rotting black teeth greeted them with a toothy grin.

“Ah, so what will it be tonight?” he asked them huskily.

“A beer.” Trey ordered.

“Piss tastes like piss, lad. I’ll have a scotch.”

The evening went by peacefully until eventually it was lights out time. Everyone headed home and the crowd thinned out until the bar was devoid of life. Trey staggered home, half drunk, after bidding Daren farewell.

Eventually he stumbled into his house and crashed into his bed and almost fell asleep until he saw a green light flash from the GTPS. Trey pulled himself out of his drunken stupor and swiftly checked the device. It was the message light- the machine had received a transmission while he was gone. Trey pressed the play button on the recorder and the radio fizzled for a moment until a voice began to speak.

The recording ended. Trey froze for a moment, taking in what he had just heard. He strapped the GTPS onto his back and burst out the front door. He dashed across the field, intent on reaching the Argus Research Campus. He was halfway there when the machine started to beep. It began to fizzle again.

“*kshhhhhh* This is USS Cerberus, we are commencing bombardment, Over! Let’s waste the fuckers! *kshhh*”

And then it came, an ear splitting explosion from the western sea wall, illuminating the island and sending pieces of debris catapulting into the air. Trey locked stared at where the explosion had come from, dumbfounded. Another one ripped out, this time blowing half the sea wall into thousands of pieces. The suddenness of what happened caused Trey to fall back in shock. What had just happened? He thought. Following this explosion was a long chorus of gunfire that sounded from the beach area. The Red Halo officers guarding the western sea wall began to fire at an unknown enemy until another explosion blew the last of the defenders into oblivion.

Trey managed to get up and brush the dirt off his uniform. He was about to break into a run when another Red Halo officer ran up to him.

“The island’s under attack! Go! Sound the alarm and get everyone to the shelters!” he said.

Trey stared at the red lens of his gasmask, slightly dazed from the explosion. (and the booze)

“Now, dammit!” the officer thrust him aside and ran off towards the beach, followed by several others, all armed with AR-15 assault rifles.

Trey struggled to get up. He gathered his senses and ran towards a guard post by the infected barracks. The post was empty, but Trey could see that the inhabitants of the barracks area had been stirred by the explosions. They began to walk outside their houses, curious as to what was going on. Trey entered the guard post and sounded the alarm. A loud, mournful siren sounded all over the island. The citizens of the barracks fell into a panic. He pushed the gates aside and entered the area, drawing his pistol, just as another explosion echoed in the distance and lit up the sky.

“Everyone to the shelters!” he ordered. “Now!”

People began to run in the direction indicated by a green street sign towards the safe zones. Trey helped some of them, especially those with children. Suddenly a familiar voice called out to him.

“Trey!” the deep voice of a man called out. “Over here!”

It was Daren, standing amidst the chaos and confusion. He ambled over to Trey, pushing aside some people.

“Daren!” Trey called then went over to him. “I need you to get to the safe zones, the island is under attack!”

“DAMN THE SAFE ZONE!” Daren swore. “I can’t find Oliver!”

“Shit…look, just stick with me and we’ll find him, alright? But we need to help these people to safety.”

Daren held an exasperated look but grudgingly agreed. They ushered people over to the safe zones until the barracks emptied out. Daren rushed into his house and came out armed with a Winchester rifle. Trey hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. They kept a look out for Daren’s son until they decided that he must be with his babysitter at the safe zone. They just started to follow after the long line of panicked civilians until the whirring sound of a helicopter was heard. Trey searched the sky and found the source of the sound, an Apache gunship hovering above the barracks, flying towards the line of people.

Daren and Trey stared at in shock. The island did not have any Apache helicopters. Where did this one come from? Suddenly and without warning, the helicopter hovered near the line of people, before unleashes a deadly barrage of machine gun fire on them. Trey’s eyes widened, stunned at what was happening. The bullets from the helicopter cut down the villagers, butchering them before Trey’s eyes. They fell likes flies, screaming in horror as their friends and family were torn to pieces by bullets.

“No!” Daren roared in rage and aimed his rifle up at the helicopter, firing at it continuously. Trey did the same with his pistol, until they both ran out of bullets and began to reload.

They stopped their reload half way, because a Red Halo officer came flying down the street at top speed with his gas mask off, holding a panicked look. Before Trey could ask him what was going on, his chest exploded in a spray of red blood as he was shot from behind. He fell face flat, dead.

“What the fu-” Trey said but was cut off as more gunshots flew in their direction. He dove into a nearby house while Daren stood outside shooting at the attackers. “Get in here, you old idiot!”

Daren grunted in frustration as he ran out of bullets once again. He joined Trey in the house. They were in a darkened kitchen, with plates and tableware smashed on the floor.

Gunshots sounded outside. A hail of bullets came thundering through the house’s wooden wall.

“Crap!” Trey crouched down and took shelter under a table. Daren followed after. “We need to get out of here! Follow me!”

“Bah! I ain’t leavin’ until I get a shot at those bastards!”

“Daren, stop being an asshole!”

“Dammit!” Daren swore before giving in and following Trey out of the house.

They heard footsteps coming form the kitchen as they tore climbed out of an open window and into a small garden. Beyond the garden was the open field, to which they retreated and hid under the tall grass.

“This is a coward’s way out!” Daren said, “Let’s go and fight!”

Trey ignored him for a moment and but instead surveyed what he could see of the island. The moon hung like a sickle blade in sky. He could see the line of dead villagers trailing up towards the safe zone, but averted his gaze from it, feeling sick. The apache helicopter hovered around the island, bringing death to its inhabitants, occasionally firing missiles. The sound of screaming and death flooded Trey’s senses. Hot tears escaped him and flowed down his cheeks before falling to the grass below. Daren was also quietly weeping for his son .

After what seemed like hours of waiting, the GTPS strapped to Trey’s back began to fizzle again.

“*kshhhh* This is Bravo Team, we have reached the insertion point. *kshhhh* Alpha Team we are advancing towards the A.R.C *kshhhhh* Hell yeah! Damn these little bastards go down fast! *kshhhh* This is USS Cerberus, take as many prisoners as you can, kill all infected. Burn the bodies. *kshhhh* Affirtmative! *kshhhh* Hahaha! Woooooot! *kshhhhh* Delta Squad, cease this behavior at once! *kshhhhh* Oh well…alright *kshhhhhh* We have Arthur Adams! I repeat we have Arthur Adams! *kshhhhh* Excellent, now bring all the other scientists back alive *kshhhhhh*

Trey pressed the interception button on the GTPS immediately and spoke into the transmitter.

“Who the hell are you people!? What do you want!?” he cried.

Silence followed.

*kshhhhh* Who is this? Which one of you idiots are playing with the radio again? Hello? *kshhhhhh*

Trey fell back, helpless. Daren placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, laddie?” he asked softly.

“This is my fault,” Trey muttered between sobs, “I was supposed to watch the radio.”

Both fell silent for several minutes. The screams of the dying and the gunfire ended. They surveyed the scene, several armed men in military uniforms were marching through the infected barracks, finishing off any survivors. They set the buildings ablaze and began to pile the corpses up.

*kshhhh* This is Bravo Team, all hostiles have been eliminated *kshhhhh*

Those words hit Trey like a stone; he began to sob more than ever, only stopping because Daren had. The tall grass near them rustled. Both of them sprang into alert. They aimed their weapons towards the source and they could make out the dim outline of a woman trudging through the grass.

“Hey!” Trey whispered loudly. “Over here!”

The woman glanced around her before finally spotting Trey and Daren. She stumbled over to them, clutching at a bloody wound in her belly. She was dressed like on of the Red Halo scientists. She also held some sheets of paper in her other hand.

“Please…” she whispered then fell on her knees. Trey and Daren went over to help her. “Take this.” She said, handing them the papers, “They are after it.” She lay on the grass , staring into the eternal sky, her blue eyes moist with tears. “There is a pair of boats on the southern beach,” she struggled to speak, “A team of zombie hunters have already taken one. There is one left. Go...” Eventually, the light faded from her eyes and she breathed her final breath before passing away quietly.

“What a waste of life…” Daren mumbled and sighed heavily.

Trey clasped the papers in his hands, he could not see what was written on them. He stood up with a hard look on his face.

“Let’s get out of here.” He managed to say, wishing he didn’t have to leave the place he loved so dearly. “But let’s take down as many as those bastards as we can.”

The pair made their way out of the fields and towards the infected barracks until they were caught by surprise. A man popped out of the tall grass, wielding an AK-47. Trey and Daren froze, but the man did not fire.

“Trey, my boy! Jesus Christ of Nazareth! Wetin dey happen for you?”

Trey recognized that voice. It was Solo Okeke.

“I go kill these bastards!” Solo said, seething with hatred.

“Can you use that gun?”

“You donno? I fight for Biafra when I still dey for Nigeria.”

“Come on, buddy, let’s get out of here.”

“Ehhhh, ok.”

They entered a house and peeped out one of its broken windows. There were several men dressed in military uniforms standing around a man kneeling on the street. Trey squinted to see better in the dark but what he saw astonished him even more. The soldiers had the US army insignia on their sleeves.

“You’re right. They’re fucking soldiers.” He whispered to Daren.

Solo held his assault rifle tightly, breathing heavily.

One of the soldiers aimed a pistol at their prisoner’s head.

“Look man we don’t have to do this!” pleaded one of the younger soldiers. Their prisoner lay crying on the floor, begging them not to kill him. But alas, his please were in vain and the soldier fired a shot that silenced him forever. The man lay still, a pool of blood forming around his head.

“Solo…” Trey whispered. “Solo?” he looked to his right. Solo was gone.

After a few seconds, he heard a guttural cry ring out from outside. Solo went charging at the soldiers, his weapon firing at full force. The soldiers were caught off guard. They fell to the ground, holes blown into their bodies.

“Aw, hell! Save some for me!” Daren said and went charging after Solo.

One of the soldiers had survived. Daren and Solo were carrying him off towards the southern beach. Trey caught up to them.

“What the hell are you doing!?” he asked in confusion.

“Taking prisoners, let’s go!” Daren said,

They ran through a forest before finally reaching the beach. Soldiers were on their trail. They would occasionally fire shots back at their pursuers, lighting up the darkness for a brief moment. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and the smell of salty water filled Trey’s senses. He spotted a lone boat floating aimlessly near the shore. The three of them charged towards it, carrying their prisoner, until a shot rang out and Solo fell to the floor.

“Solo!” Trey cried and went over to him. Four bullets had pierced his gut compared to their prisoner’s simple wound to the leg. More of the soldiers were coming after them. They didn’t have much time.

Daren started up the boat and Trey hopped in, accidentally sitting on the prisoner. The boat rumbled loudly and sped off, sending a blast of water out the back area.

The island slowly grew smaller and smaller, shrinking into the distance. They sailed on in total darkness with only the moonlight to guide their way. A sigh of relief escaped Trey’s lips as he collapsed onto the floor of the boat and eventually passed out.

Trey’s eyes slid open, greeted by a blast of sunlight that blinded him momentarily.

“Daren?” he called out, shielding his gaze from the sun with his hands.

No answer. His eyes adjusted to the light and he gazed around him. He was still laying in the boat. It was daylight, the relaxing sound of seagulls echoed in the distance along with the gentle sounds of waves breaking against shore. He got up; the boat was tied to a wooden pier, a long sandy beach stretching from its sides. Daren and the prisoner they had taken was nowhere to be seen. He climbed onto the pier and drew his pistol, making sure it was loaded. His footsteps echoed eerily as he inched his way up the peer towards a shabby wooden shack at the end of it.

There were various old fishing supplies packed by the side of the shack, including a rusted anchor. The door to the shack lay on the ground before it, broken of its hinges. A yellow poster was plastered onto its window with the words ‘Evacuation Point’ written in black. Trey immediately realized where he was and began to feel a little worried. He looked beyond the shack, a vast area of countryside expanded before him, dotted with clumps of trees with a road running along the coast. In the distance, Trey could make out what looked like a town near some hills. He took a step inside the shack and peered inside. As he did, something was suddenly pressed against his head. He froze.

“That bloody bastard!” Daren spat on the floor near him. “I’ve tied him to a tree. Hopefully a berserker will get him. He deserves it.”

“You did what? Um, can you take me to him; I think we better ask him a few questions first.”

Daren lead Trey towards a thicket of trees nearby and sure enough, their prisoner was there, one of his legs tied to a tree by a length of rope. His face was pale, his eyes weary and he looked about the same age as Trey. He sat on the ground, a stream of blood trickled down his leg from where he was hit. He watched Trey expectantly.

“What’s your name?” Trey asked him.

“He’s John Shepherd,” Daren cut in, “I saw his nametag.”

John kept staring at Trey.

“Who sent you to attack Arc Island? And why?”

John hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

“I’m just obeying orders,” he croaked weakly, “and I’m just a medic. I…didn’t kill anyone. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I swear, please…don’t-”

“Ya daft bastard, he didn’t ask ya what you do he-”

“Daren!” Trey cut in. “Now answer me this time, who sent you and why?”

Trey ignored Daren, but after several failed attempts to get John to talk, he gave up. He walked with Daren away from the grove and back to the shack.

“The boy had some good stuff on him.” Daren said as they entered the musty shack while gesturing to some items laid out on a table.

Trey saw that they were weapons: an MP5, a browning HP, two grenades, a combat knife and various other items taken off the soldier. Other than the weapons were ammo, a helmet, night vision goggles, ammo belts and a satchel filled with food tablets.

“I saw a church nearby,” Daren said, “I’m thinking we should go check it and take shelter there.”

“Isn’t it good enough in here?” Trey asked.

Daren gestured at the wide open door.

“Not if something like a crawler can just walk in here any minute.”

“Good point,” Trey agreed and picked up the MP5, “so when are we going?”

Trey and Daren armed themselves with the weapons they found. They traveled along an old road lined with trees until they reached their destination. The church was a rather imposing structure, two stories tall, a high steeple and made out of stone bricks that were slowly wearing away with time. Vines grew on the walls of the building, wrapping around every surface. The windows were boarded up and several rusting cars were parked outside the entrance. Trey and Daren made their way up to the entrance and paused.

“Alrighty now, what do we do?” Daren asked, cocking his Winchester rifle.

“Just move in quickly, if there’s any trouble then we get out as fast we can,” Trey instructed, “Ready?”

“Aye.”

“Ok, on the count of three. One. Two. Three!”

Bang! Daren kicked the church’s heavy doors open and they aimed their guns upwards, rushing in. They stopped and looked around. It was too dark to see anything, but the light from the entrance showed them enough to turn their stomachs. Bodies, hundreds of them, were packed on the benches, hunched over almost as if they died in prayer. The carpet leading up to the altar was strewn with corpses and crusty with dried blood. Blood coated almost every surface, even the walls. A heap of bodies were piled before the altar, some of their arms outstretched towards the large wooden crucifix of Jesus, as if they had died begging him to save them.

“Jesus…” Daren muttered.

*Ping!*

A sound came from behind them and they both turned to the entrance, weapons held at the ready. A figure appeared, dressed in black robes, a white crucifix running down the center. Its face was disfigured, the pale skin stretched tightly over its bony features. Both of its cheeks were missing, ripped away and revealing rows of rotten black teeth. It stared at Daren and Trey with empty eyes.

Suddenly, it opened its mouth wide, stretching its jaws to an inhuman degree before letting out an ear-piercing shriek…

Trey covered his ears as the creature’s jarring shriek cut across the air. The sheer power of it dazed him beyond belief. Everything in his field of vision became a blurry haze. He saw Daren drop to the floor screaming, his wails of agony but a distant cry in the midst of the colossal power of the howler. The scream stopped, but Trey could not hear anything but a distant ringing. He felt at his forehead, which smarted with pain. He tried to stand up, to fight, but he found himself weak and shell-shocked. He gazed around the dark gloom of the church. All the bodies that had been resting on the wooden benches slowly stirred in the darkness, coming to life, ready to feed.

They came from behind every hiding place, from every dark corner that could conceal them. Dozens of them, far too much for Daren and Trey to take on. The howler priest stretched its maw open, heaving heavily and preparing another shriek that would surely cause them to go unconscious. Trey heaved himself up, took careful aim with the MP5 and squeezed the trigger, blowing the priest’s head off in a burst of fine red mist. The howler’s body slumped against the church doorway just as several more figures gathered around it, blocking any means of escape. They were trapped.

‘Daren!’ Trey called out to his comrade who lay motionless on the floor. ‘Daren dammit get up!’

He went over to Daren and shook him as hard as he could. Daren stirred slightly and his eyes opened up.

‘That was…fucking loud…’ he muttered.

Trey sat him. The dead had them cornered, there was no way out. Trey held the MP5 at the ready as Daren got up and cocked his Winchester rifle. One of the crawlers, a woman in a purple bathrobe, shuffled up to Trey, her arms outstretched. Trey pressed the barrel of the MP5 against her head and opened fire, tearing the top half of her skull off. She fell to the floor, dead, as more and more of the zombies came forth to claim Trey and Daren’s flesh.

Daren shot the reanimated body of an old man in the head and he slumped back against a drove of eager crawlers who were making their way towards them.

Daren fired wildly at the undead, missing their heads. For every one of them he successfully killed, several more seemed to take its place. Trey and Daren stood back to back, holding off the crawlers, rewarding any one of them that dared to come close with a face full of bullets.

‘It’s too damn dark!’ Trey complained.

‘I’ve got this ‘un!’ Daren said, drew a browning HP from his belt and fired at the ceiling. The old, rickety architecture broke away as bullets smashed into the ceiling, tearing holes into it and allowing sunlight to spear the darkness.

Trey and Daren moved into a spotlight, giving them light. Around them was still darkness, however. Pure, suffocating darkness. The dead emerged from it, reaching out to them, eager for the coming meal. Trey caught site of a dark shape sprinting from behind the ancient pillars. The dark figure suddenly came plowing through the crowd of crawlers, tossing them out of the way and knocking them down. It was a morbidly obese man wearing a hospital patient’s gown stained with crimson blood and ancient vomit. The rotting fat in his gut flopped up and down as he ran. Ran. He was running, Trey realized.

‘Berserker!’ Trey warned Daren. He squeezed the MP5’s trigger and the clicking sound of his ammunition running dry echoed through the church. ‘Shit!’

The fat man was upon him, pinning him to the ground with his huge belly. Trey whimpered in agony as he prepared himself for the bite. However, it didn’t come. The fat berserker slammed its fists into Trey’s chest, knocking the air out of him. It began its sadistic torture ritual.

Daren slammed the stock of his rifle into the berserker’s head, to no avail. He gave up and pointed the barrel at its forehead. Before he could pull the trigger, a crawler grabbed him from behind and dragged him towards its gaping mouth full of rotten teeth. Daren smacked the creature with his rifle, using it like a club as more and more of the crawlers grabbed at him.

‘Ya whoresons, that the best you can do!?’ he taunted the unhearing undead as he bludgeoned them with the rifle.

Trey could feel the life leaving him as he received punch after punch from the fat berserker. He closed his eyes, hoping the torture would end soon. Strangely, it did. He opened his eyes to see a knife sticking into its forehead as Daren heaved the fat mass off of Trey. He rolled the berserker off of Trey and they both got up, looking around them. The undead were still coming; there must have been at least 50 in the church. They groaned mournfully, inching their way to the living.

‘Window!’ Daren cried out as he sprinted towards a boarded up window.

Trey followed him, but suddenly tripped over something. He fell against one of the wooden benches and looked down at his legs, where a legless crawler was gnawing at his boot. He pulled his leg free and sent a kick thundering against the pathetic creature’s face, crushing its skull. He got up. Withered arms of the undead reached out to him. Sweat pouring down his face and adrenaline flooding his veins, he charged at group of the crawlers, knocking them down and forcing his way through. Daren was desperately clawing at the boards of the window, stripping the improvised barricades away.

Trey pushed him aside, reloaded his gun and shot an opening through the boards. Daren smashed through the remaining of the window. They leapt out of the church and onto solid ground. They both lay still for a moment then turned to face the undead that had gathered at the window, staring sadly at their lost prize. Daren burst out into hearty laughter as he got up, intent on getting out of the churchyard.

‘The racket we made in there ought ‘ta be heard by anything nearby. Let’s…bloody hell…’

Daren was caught in mid sentence. He gazed at the surrounding churchyard, which was crawling with the undead that had been attracted by the gunfire. Trey tried to say something.